Page 90 of Perdition
Wearing only a pair of gray sweatpants, he was already a feast for the eyes with his cut six-pack, that drool-worthy V of muscles, and his hard, sculpted chest with a smattering of dark blonde hair, but when you added those lady porn sweatpants—sans boxer briefs—he became walking, talking, breathing sexual potency.
And he was sitting next to her, radiating heat and sex, and smelling like warm skin and all man.
He reached for her hands and pulled them into his lap, keeping her in place in case she decided to run, no doubt.
But she was done with running, with hiding. She was ready to face whatever Mads had to say, because she was tired of missing him, aching for him, feeling lost and angry and only half alive without him.
Mads planted a quick kiss on her nose, then said, “Now that the BBS is over—” Em snorted, rolling her eyes—“it’s time for my side of the conversation.”
Swallowing, she pinched her lips together and hesitantly nodded.
Lord, let me survive this, please….
Drawing in a slow breath, Mads waited for Emily to meet his gaze before he started.
“I understand why you cut down the tree,” he began, his voice tight. His throat worked as the swallowed again. This was hard on him, she knew that, but she’d been dealing with a lot of difficult things—alone—for more than a year. “That was a sacred place for us, where we treasured all our firsts; where we first kissed, first said our ‘I love yous,’ where we first made love….”
Tears burned the backs of her eyes as, with each memory, the moments flashed in her mind.
Those moments were sweet, beautiful, sometimes sloppy, but always just theirs.
“I ruined that spot for us. I tainted the meaning of that tree, of that place, with my thoughtlessness. But I promise you, Em, that place will be pure again, just ours again—I’ll make sure of it.”
She choked on a sob. “How? Our tree is gone. I burned it. It’s ashes,” she whispered, her throat aching.
“I’ll find a way, no matter what it takes,” he promised, pressing a kiss against her knuckles.
As another sob broke free, Mads wrapped his arm around her and pulled her into his chest, resting her head against him.
“I know I’ve said it before, but I need to say it again—I am so fucking sorry, baby.”
There was anguish and guilt and fear in his voice, and that made her feel worse. She hated that he was hurting, and that it was because he’d hurt her first.
They were a mess.
“Why did you do it? Why did you let her in, Mads?” she asked, pleading for an answer that would make the pain stop.
He was silent, but she could hear the unsteady beat of his heart against her ear. She could hear every time he breathed. Like a slowly dotted ellipsis as she waited for him to answer….
Finally, his voice soft yet heavy, he said, “For years, even before we got married, I have been the protector, the provider, the leader, the doer, the one you counted on for everything. I fucking loved that you depended on me for so much, it fueled me, fed me, and I ate it up every time. And then the kids came along, and I felt like fucking Superman. You all needed me, and I needed you, so fucking much, and I was so goddamn happy I couldn’t believe what we had was real. You and me, Em, we werethe dream, we were what everyone thought about when they pictured marital bliss—and I was so fucking proud to be your husband…to be their father.”
Her hand on his chest itched to stroke him, to help ease his pain, to comfort him.
“So what happened to that man?” She barely recognized her own voice for the thinness of it, like ribbons pulled too tight for too long, then left to hang in the wind. “Where did I go wrong?”
He grunted, his body tensing as he growled, “You didn’t do anything wrong—it was all me. The moment it felt like you didn’t need me anymore, like I was no longer the protector and provider, I felt like I didn’t matter anymore.”
“That’s bullshit, Mads!” Emily snapped. “The kids and I will always need you! So what if the kids go off to school and don’t need their dad to give them rides, or check out their dates, or kick their bullies asses—you are still the one they come to for advice, for a cool head in a hot situation, and for help with their car problems. Just knowing you will be there when they need you is enough for them. Hell, Mads, you should be proud of yourself—raising two incredible, independent, respectful, and responsible adults.”
A soft smile curled his lips, and she smiled at him in return.
“They are pretty amazing…but that was mostly you, baby. You were with them, raising them, while I was gone all those months in the Army. Without you, they’d never have survived to be toddlers let alone college students.”
She snickered. “Yeah, War would have killed Sorsha in a freak potty accident, or Sorsha would have offed her brother using any one of her colored pencils or paint brushes. He would have bled out in no time.”
Chuckling, Mads replied, “Blood isn’t what they mean with they talk about creative juices.”
Laughing, Em looked up into her husband’s eyes, and saw a desperate yearning, one her own heart was aching for.
